


Lips

by oldseafarer



Category: The Hour
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 03:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldseafarer/pseuds/oldseafarer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the chaos, through the haze of pain and the dizziness that engulfed him, Freddie whispers one name: Moneypenny.</p><p>Post 2.06</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Alas, un-edited.

           In the chaos, through the haze of pain and the dizziness that engulfes him, Freddie whispers one name:

            " _Moneypenny."_

At least, he tries to. His lips, once red with her lipstick, now throb with blood. People flutter around him, useless and frantic. Freddie’s fingers twitch uselessly and the world spins.

            There is only one hand he wants pressed against his cheek, only one face he wants to see. His thoughts are disjointed; a mess surely that could rival his face. Still, he comforts himself. (What comfort? What self is left?) The story, the story, it was all for the story. Kiki and Hector were brilliant, somber and sober as they destroyed the most powerful men in the country.

            It was worth it, right?

            Of course it was.

            (It had to be worth it.)

            The edges of his vision fade to black and a thought slides through his mind, too ethereal to catch, too precious to dwell upon, _I wish I could have kissed her once more._

            And then she’s there? He can’t be sure. His name sobbed, frenetic hands, cool fingertips barely brushing his face and neck.

            “ _Moneypenny.”_

Later, she would yell at him. He would lie there in his hospital bed and just watch her pace. Bel would press her hand against her forehead, her cheeks red with worry and rage. “Why didn’t you just leave with Miss Delane? Why did you have to go with Pike? God, Freddie you almost died!” She would yell at him because she cannot say anything else. There would be tension in the corners of her eyes and she won't ask him to look away from the tears that slip out.

            Bel would stand there, her arms crossed and pressed against her stomach. She would hold herself so very tightly.

            “Come here.” He would say, holding out his hand. (It would shake still.) His face would be swollen, multicolored and perhaps he wouldn’t never have a face for television again. (That’s alright, he was completely forgettable anyway.)

            Bel would hesitate still.

            He would reassure her and eventually, she would let herself take comfort in his words.

            (It was all he had, his words. With words he leveled the social strata; even at his poorest and most dismal he could speak. Language wooed and wounded. It tore down governments and lifted up heroes.)

            He was no hero; he was journalist.

            Freddie wonders briefly, in a moment of metacognition, why he was thinking about any of this. Perhaps he was dying. Perhaps it was the pain, it had pushed him out of reality and away—

            Away from Bel.

            Freddie tries to open his eyes, and his lips are coated with blood. Once, they were covered in poetry. He whispers her name to cover them in love.

            “Freddie don’t you dare die!” She shouts at him and his head lolls to one side. She is a blur of red, red hair, red suit, but perhaps that was the blood?

            His thoughts…more scattered now. Freddie can sense that with a sort of distant dismay.

            His eyes close and she screams his name.

            He moved his fingers in hers, briefly.

            “Don’t leave me.” She sobs now. “I just got you back, don’t you dare leave me! We’re possible Freddie, we’re possible! But we are impossible if you are _dead._ ” She chokes over the last word.

            He wonders who she is trying to convince; he isn’t going anywhere if he can help it.

            Pain, there it is again. He dimly senses now that he is being moved. He hears Hector’s voice shouting orders, there’s the military man in him. He hears Randall reinforcing those orders in that low rumbling brogue. Someone is pulling Bel away from him, Lix maybe?

            _“Money—“_

The world fades to black and the Freddie can’t tell if that is the roar of an engine or the roar of his heart.

            _“Moneypenny.”_


End file.
